ch of gravel there was a double set
of tracks, which showed how it had returned to Mrs. Sempill. He was
exposed to the full force of the wind, and the strenuousness of his
bodily exertions kept his fears quiescent, till the cliffs on his left
sunk suddenly and the valley of the Laver lay before him.

A small figure rose from the shelter of a boulder, the warrior who bore
the name of Old Bill. He saluted gravely.

"Ye're just in time. The water has rose three inches since I've been
here. Ye'd better strip."

Dickson removed his boots and socks. "Breeks too," commanded the boy;
"there's deep holes ayont thae stanes."

Dickson obeyed, feeling very chilly, and rather improper. "Now follow
me," said the guide. The next moment he was stepping delicately on
very sharp pebbles, holding on to the end of the scout's pole, while an
icy stream ran to his knees.

The Laver as it reaches the sea broadens out to the width of fifty or
sixty yards and tumbles over little shelves of rock to meet the waves.
Usually it is shallow, but now it was swollen to an average depth of a
foot or more, and there were deeper pockets. Dickson made the passage
slowly and miserably, sometimes crying out with pain as his toes struck
a sharper flint, once or twice sitting down on a boulder to blow like a
whale, once slipping on his knees and wetting the strange excrescence
about his middle, which was his tucked-up waterproof. But the crossing
was at length achieved, and on a patch of sea-pinks he dried himself
perfunctorily and hastily put on his garments. Old Bill, who seemed to
be regardless of wind or water, squatted beside him and whistled
through his teeth.

Above them hung the sheer cliffs of the Huntingtower cape, so sheer
that a man below was completely hidden from any watcher on the top.
Dickson's heart fell, for he did not profess to be a cragsman and had
indeed a horror of precipitous places. But as the two scrambled along
the foot, they passed deep-cut gullies and fissures, most of them
unclimbable, but offering something more hopeful than the face. At one
of these Old Bill halted, and led the way up and over a chaos of fallen
rock and loose sand. The grey weather had brought on the dark
prematurely, and in the half-light it seemed that this ravine was
blocked by an unscalable nose of rock. Here Old Bill whistled, and
there was a reply from above. Round the corner of the nose came Dougal.

"Up here," he commanded. "It was M